Even After All This Time
by Ariel D
Summary: After the 4th Shinobi World War, Gaara, Kankuro, and Temari have to face problems and tensions that threaten to rip apart their small family. Sometimes you can't have what you truly desire. Can anything good come from something bad? Spoilers War Arc. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Even After All This Time**

すべての今回後で

By Ariel-D

_Description: After the 4th Shinobi World War, Gaara, Kankuro, and Temari have to face problems and tensions that threaten to rip apart their small family. Sometimes you can't have what you truly desire. Can anything good come from something bad?_

_Disclaimer: Gaara, Kankuro, Temari, and the Naruto-verse are copyrighted by Masashi Kishimoto and Weekly Shonen Jump. I am making no profit; this is just for fun._

_A/N: Probably the manga will render this story AU fairly shortly, but that's okay. Warning: spoilers through chapter Shippuuden vol. 56 ch. 547. All post-war details fabricated by me, of course. Note that this contains **_a projection of who the Sandsibs could becom_e**__ after the war is over and is not necessarily meant to reflect who they were prior to or even during the war. Gaara, especially, is someone I feel will be changed by his experiences on the battlefield, while Temari is a projection of a common fan fantasy._

_This story was written back in March as a summation of all my previous Sandsibs stories; as a result, you'll see allusions to a half-dozen of my other fanfics here even though this is not a sequel to any of them. My purpose was to process everywhere I'd been before so I could locate myself and re-enter the fandom. Originally, I didn't post it because it felt like I was missing a scene, but I finally figured out what scene that was. So I tweaked the story to fit the most recent manga chapters and then finished it._

_Translations: I don't use a lot of Japanese, but since I find the language beautiful, I can't help adding just a few words._

Niisan_ means older brother, _ototo_ means younger brother, and _neesan_ means older sister. "Jan" is the syllable Kankuro adds to his sentences because he speaks with a punk/Yankee accent._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

Wood shavings decorated the workbench; the smell of sawdust tickled his nose. Gaara's stomach tensed at the familiarity of his brother's bedroom, which glowed from the crimson sunrays piercing the curtains. An eerie hush hung in the room as though daring him to make a sound. Peering out the round window, Gaara could see the normal world outside: countless shinobi and kunoichi spending time with their families after returning from the war. Distantly, he heard children's happy shrieks, but the sound was so muffled it seemed unreal. It was _too _normal.

Stepping over to the worktable, Gaara ran his fingertips through the sawdust there, leaving behind narrow tracks. His soul was lodged in his throat, cutting off the scream of pain trapped in his chest. The ache of it choked him and burnt his sinuses. His gaze wandered over little ceramic pots of paint — green, red, purple — and he pressed his fingers against the cool surfaces, trying to convince himself he was still real. He felt disconnected, numb.

No sound reached his ears, but Gaara felt the soft hum of chakra behind him as someone drew near. He turned toward Temari, who wore a plain black yukata. "Any change?"

She waved one arm in front of her chest, signaling "no," and stepped into the room. "Sakura-san has arrived. She's doing her best to determine why his condition suddenly grew worse."

Gaara tried to meet his sister's eyes, but he found his gaze slipping sideways to the wall. "I don't understand." His voice was flat. "They treated the poison already." In his mind, all he could see was Kankuro collapsing shortly after they'd returned to Suna; his face had been pale, his breathing labored, his eyes nearly gray.

"There were so many of them," Temari whispered. From the corner of his vision, he saw her bow her head. "Not just Chiyo-baa, which would have been bad enough, but that Hanzo guy and his —"

"I know." In a sense, the war had been the worst nightmare of Gaara's life. He'd fought to protect Naruto, to protect the entire world. However, he'd had to face countless powerful shinobi, including his own resurrected father. At moments he'd wondered if the world might end, but the boy of legend had arrived — late, like a hero should — and turned the tide.

But there had been casualties. Fatalities. And there had been Kankuro slipping to his knees, clutching his chest and panting, sweat springing to his brow.

_He's one of my precious people,_ Gaara thought, but the words never made it to his lips. He could feel a tingling in his tongue, almost as though the words wanted to claw their way out. _You both are._

"I think perhaps we should go to him." Temari turned and headed back through the door.

Watching her back, Gaara frowned, knowing something wasn't right. A very big something. "Wait."

Temari paused without turning around.

"Explain what's going on between Kankuro and you." For months, Gaara had pretended not to notice the tension between his siblings, but he wasn't blind to the shift — indeed, fracture — in their relationship. As a child, Gaara had been tortured by the sight and evidence of his siblings' close bond. He'd peered in from the outside, watching the way they stood together and covered each other's backs. With so little difference in their ages, they acted more like twins, and although they picked on each other and gave each other attitude, their surface behavior didn't hide the love they shared. Gaara had been deeply jealous, so much so that he could hardly stand to be in their presence. Lately, though, something had changed for the worse.

"We fought." Temari spoke so suddenly Gaara felt startled. "We argued. Right before the war began. We lost our tempers, both of us. I was . . ." She hesitated. "We're close, but we're still very different. He's like Naruto, reacting based on his feelings. He doesn't understand . . ." Once again, she hesitated, as though she couldn't find the words to say. "He has different needs, I guess. So we fought."

Gaara crossed the tatami floor soundlessly and squeezed her arm. "Siblings fight. Things are good between us now, but that doesn't mean we'll never argue. I'm sure he knows you love him."

"It'd been building for months, actually." Temari finally turned toward him, but she stared at the wall. "He hasn't been the same since I started seeing Shikamaru, even though he's totally supported me in doing so."

Well aware of the likely conflict between his siblings, Gaara wasn't sure what to say, so he chose a neutral fact. "Of course. Kankuro always supports you in everything you do."

"I know." Temari sighed and tugged on her yukata, straightening the obi. "I think we're both frustrated because the other doesn't understand, but I don't know what it is that I'm supposed to figure out. And we said some really hurtful shit."

"The last words you speak to someone aren't the most important." Although he understood that she was worried about that, Gaara shuddered internally, not wanting to curse them with such an obvious allusion to Kankuro's potential death. "Let's go."

As he headed out of the room, Gaara felt his sister trail after him, but he didn't speak to her further. Despite the light and heat outside, shadows clogged the hallways, and the breeze whipping in the open windows felt cold against his face. For awhile now his brother had been the warm, affectionate presence at his elbow, teasing him and protecting him. He'd even babysat him through his nightmares as he'd learned to sleep. Gaara had absorbed it all greedily, if silently, trying to drink in the love he'd missed. But his relationship with his brother was overshadowed by the lifelong bond Kankuro and Temari shared. He knew how much pain their conflict was causing Kankuro, but selfishly, Gaara had wondered if he could win more of his brother's attention.

Now he felt guilty for wishing such a thing because they might lose their brother forever. The sheer pain and terror caused by that thought made his veins burn and tingle as though he'd been poisoned. _Please don't let my brother die._ Now that he'd experienced familial love, Gaara couldn't imagine life without Kankuro.

* * *

><p>Loud clinking sounds disrupted his rest, interrupting the strange shadow world he swam through: Chiyo complimenting his growth, Temari razzing Shikamaru, Gaara asking him if he were all right. With effort, Kankuro identified the sounds as dishes in a sink, then revised it to beakers in a lab. Finally he decided they were plates on a metal rolling cart. He thought he should be home, but the smell of rubbing alcohol and bleach told him he wasn't. The confusion made him push against the sleep that grasped his limbs and pulled him downward.<p>

Distant voices added to the chaos as incoherent mumbling. Something was wrong; he was sure of it. A no-nonsense voice spoke next to his ear, and he realized suddenly he was cold and his right hip hurt. With a frown, he forced his eyes open, and he could feel the crusted sleep in them. His eyelashes seemed to part with effort, pulling away from each other lash by lash.

"You're awake." A pale face leaned over him. "I was beginning to fear you'd sleep forever."

Snorting, Kankuro gave Gaara a smile; however, when he attempted to speak, he mangled the first syllable and had to swallow hard, trying to find his voice.

Sakura leaned over him from the opposite side. "That's two you owe me." She smiled briefly, then grew grim. "I thought at first it was poison again, but it wasn't. I'm not sure what to say it was, exactly. It acted almost like a jutsu that, over the course of days, drains a person's chakra until they're dead." She shrugged one shoulder in obvious irritation. "That will take more research. But regardless, you'll have to take it easy for awhile."

Knowing better than to argue, Kankuro nodded slowly, and Sakura retreated. He glanced back at his brother to judge just how much danger he'd been in. Dark smudges decorated the inner corners of Gaara's eyes, making the black rings seem wider. "That bad, huh?" His gaze wandered around the room, searching for Temari, wishing she were there, too. But, of course, she wasn't. Somehow, he thought he should feel hurt, but he simply felt resigned.

"Idiot," Gaara said, the word lacking any heat. "You almost died. When I put you in charge of the ambush party, I didn't expect you to get poisoned again."

Kankuro smiled weakly. "That's me. Reckless and all."

Gaara dropped his deadpan teasing act. "You feel all right?"

"Just tired," Kankuro admitted. He felt like he could sleep for years and never get enough. "How long have I been out?"

"Five days. You scared us." Gaara ran one hand through his hair, exposing his kanji more than usual.

Taking in Gaara's unusual show of discomfort, Kankuro frowned, understanding what a close call it must have been. "Where's Temari?" He almost didn't want to ask.

"I had to put her on border patrol." Gaara paused. "She's checked on you several times, and she's stayed by your side as much as she can."

Warmness radiated through the clump of ice infesting his heart, and Kankuro smiled to himself. For a moment, he'd feared his sister really had simply abandoned him despite his being hurt.

"You guys had a fight, didn't you?" Gaara asked.

Kankuro considered inquiring how he knew, but he didn't bother. His brother was highly observant. "Yeah, I was so angry I said some stuff I shouldn't have." He frowned at the ceiling. _That's an understatement._ It hadn't been his intention; the pain he was holding in had exploded. Not that Temari hadn't given as good as she'd got; Kankuro was still stinging over some of his sister's words. But it all hurt. The only other time in his life he'd ever hurt this much was when he'd failed to rescue Gaara and almost lost him forever.

Now it looked like he might lose his sister instead.

It was ironic. When Kankuro had been younger, everyone had assumed he was a heartless bully, and he was self-aware enough to know he'd been a jerk. But he'd never been heartless. If anything, he believed he felt _too_much. "How do you know?" he whispered, stricken. "How do you do it?"

Gaara's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?

"How do you know when to let go? How much to let go? And . . . how do you bring yourself to do it?" Kankuro felt nauseated with pain, his stomach clenching tightly. He'd never imagined his bond with Temari would be discarded, that Temari would essentially hand it back to him and tell him she no longer needed it.

Scooting in his chair, Gaara leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. "You're still talking about Temari, aren't you?"

Without meeting his gaze, Kankuro forced himself to explain. "There are only twenty four hours in a day. Take out nine or ten for Temari's work, three for daily training, and eight for sleep. Now there are three hours left for free time." Kankuro's voice sounded flat, clinical. "She doesn't have any real hobbies, so we've always just hung out and done whatever, either her and me or all three of us."

"Our bonding time," Gaara said bluntly, having always been the type to present concepts exactly as he saw them. Having lived outside of society for so long, he seemed unbothered by the constraints of either politeness or machismo.

"Yeah, _jan_." Kankuro sighed faintly, staring at the cracks meandering through the beige adobe ceiling. Their pattern reminded him of crows' feet. "Then after swearing she had no interest in the stupid boys her age or in marriage in general, she started dating Shikamaru. Which, of course, is great. And I totally encouraged her to do that."

Gaara watched him with that quiet intensity he always gave to those he listened to. "Yes, you've been her number one supporter in everything she does."

Kankuro didn't want to say the words. He didn't want to continue, didn't want to acknowledge what was happening, to face the truth he couldn't avoid. "Dating is a normal thing," he whispered, arguing with himself and delaying the moment. "And to date someone from a village that's so far away takes a lot of effort and time."

"But now she has no time for us," Gaara said, still blunt. "She takes assignments to Konoha anytime they arise, and if Shikamaru is with a Konoha team or delegation that comes here, she stays with him the entire time." He shook his head. "Yes, I know. I could say, 'Suck it up. If you want any of her time, you better adapt to her schedule.'"

Kankuro sat up abruptly, ignoring the dizziness it caused him. The tray table at the end of his bed seemed to tilt and smear before righting itself. "So my time is irrelevant? Fuck that." Jerking back the sheet, he struggled to get out of bed, needing to move, take action, and find a solution. Still, even to him, his words seemed hollow — all performance and no truth.

Eyes wide, Gaara reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him. "You're in no condition to get out of bed." He paused. "Besides, I said I _could _say that, not that I would. Baki would. But the issue's more complex than that."

Letting Gaara restrain him, Kankuro slumped suddenly. "For months now, it's the same thing every time. She says she'll hang out with me, but it never happens. We used to hang out almost every night, but anymore, we might hang out once a month." He met Gaara's gaze, his eyes narrowing until his glare was sharp enough to cut stone. "Why is it that her dating equates ditching me on my ass?"

Gaara released him. "So this is what you two fought about?" He nodded slowly. "I can't say I'm shocked to hear it. I know this is hard. It's not easy on me, either. All I can say is that you'll always be her ototo."

"I know that. Whenever she needs me, I'll be there." Kankuro shook off his hand and stood shakily, then shuffled across the room to the small, round window. Outside, the sunset painted the domed buildings blood-crimson, making the entire village glow red. "I don't know why I'm surprised." His words contained bitterness like tea dregs. "Do you remember? I wasn't popular as a kid. I scared off all the other kids because they were afraid of moving, talking 'dolls.' I didn't realize that the puppet jutsu was scary, so I didn't get it."

"That's not true now." Gaara leaned back in his chair once more. "You're highly respected, even more so after defeating Sasori and leading the ambush party to success."

"Yeah, I know, _jan._ But . . . all this feels so familiar. Except for you, I'm alone again." Just like when he was a kid. Kankuro leaned his forehead against the cool glass and closed his eyes. "Why does it have to be this way? Why do siblings have to grow up and grow apart? Is that the default setting of the world?" Somehow, that seemed terribly wrong to him — unnecessary and even cruel.

"Probably. But ultimately it's a choice." Gaara sounded so matter-of-fact. "She has to want to make time for you, and until she does, there's nothing you can do about it."

Kankuro straightened and punched the wall in frustration. "Yeah, I get that. But we all create time for what we care about." And that was what scared him most. He remembered a similar situation that had occurred when he was eleven. He'd made a friend at the academy, but Haro had gone to his grandparents' for summer break that year. In the meantime, Kankuro had been officially inducted into the Puppet Corps so they could further his training, and he'd befriended a genin there named Shiro. Except for when Shiro was on missions, they'd spent the entire summer building a puppet together and training. It had been like being sucked into their own little world. In fact, Shiro was still one of his good friends now. However, when Haro had returned home, Kankuro still spent more time with Shiro.

"Do you remember Haro?" Kankuro asked, opening his eyes and staring back out at the sand-covered streets.

"Barely." Gaara sounded curious. "Why?"

"When I became friends with Shiro, I tried to balance the time between them, but it didn't work." Kankuro wondered briefly if it was karma, but he didn't really believe in such things. "Haro couldn't discuss the puppet jutsu or train with me the way Shiro could. Haro couldn't design, build, and tweak puppets, either. In the end, Shiro and I had more in common, and we became best friends. Haro went from getting all my free time to only a small fraction of it, and as a result, he got pissed." Secretly, Kankuro had felt guilty for years over hurting Haro. However, he'd had more in common with Shiro and enjoyed hanging out with him so much that he'd been unable to strike a better balance.

Gaara joined him at the window, leaning his back against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. "I remember a little about that. Haro blew up at you." He frowned. "It's not surprising that you chose Shiro. The only thing you had in common with Haro was that you both wanted to become shinobi."

"Exactly." Kankuro stared at his brother's profile, wondering what he really thought of this whole situation. He certainly didn't expect Gaara to choose sides between Temari and him. "I could've made more time for Haro if I'd really wanted to, but I didn't. And after awhile, I stopped even caring. I had what I wanted: Shiro." Which was the scary part. Did Temari just feel no need to be around him anymore? She had found what she wanted, and nothing else was necessary?

Shifting to face him, Gaara leaned his shoulder against the wall and cocked his head to the side. "But those were the antics of kids, and kids can be thoughtlessly cruel. You're eighteen now, and Temari's your sister. Don't assume Temari thinks about you the same way that you, as a kid, thought about Haro. It can't really compare, can it?"

Kankuro shrugged. "I dunno, _jan._ I just know that you make time for the people you want to hang out with."

"Yes, and for Temari, part of that time will go to dating, marrying, and having a family. That's just life."

Irritated, Kankuro glowered at him. "Oh, so I — you and I — get left out? 'I had a great time, so see ya around?'" He paused, the harshness draining from his voice. Given how different Gaara's childhood had been, he wondered if his brother could really understand what he was talking about. "I'm not asking for the three hours a night back. I just want something more than once a month, you know?"

"I know. But you have a choice to make, too," Gaara said gently. "Right, wrong, or indifferent, you'll never play the same role in Temari's life that you used to. You'll never get the same time you did before. The question is whether you can be content with whatever time she allots you."

All the fight swooshed out of Kankuro, making him slump again. For him, Gaara's straightforward logic translated into a type of fatalism. Theories became nothing but facts. "Love hurts."

Gaara raised one hairless brow. "I know. That's why I burnt the kanji for 'Ai' into my forehead."

* * *

><p>Sitting in his office, piles of paperwork laid out before him, Gaara found himself unable to concentrate. In fact, he couldn't bring himself to even care about the border reports, expense reports, and supply tallies. All he could focus on was his brother, his slow recovery, and the strained relationship between his elder siblings. He had become so used to having peace in his household that the return of conflict was startling and unwelcome; in addition, despite their spats, Kankuro and Temari had never engaged in a protracted fight. Their average argument lasted a few minutes, or a few days at worst, not a few months. The only good thing Gaara could say was that Kankuro had been released from the hospital.<p>

Unable to concentrate, Gaara ended up slowly twirling his quill between his fingers, the scroll before him little more than a white blur to his gaze. A knock on the door focused his attention, and he lowered the quill as though he had been writing. It was best if he never seemed distracted or worried. "Enter," he called.

Temari opened the door and stepped inside. "Sorry to bother you, but I need to talk to you about a personal matter. And I think — "

"Have you checked on Kankuro?" Gaara didn't mean to interrupt his sister, but since she was clearly back from her mission, he hoped she'd visited their brother. He had looked in on Kankuro before going to his office that morning, but he hadn't had the chance to check on him since.

"Sure." Temari crossed the floor, setting her mission report on Gaara's desk. "There's nothing much to report," she said, pointing to the scroll. "And Kankuro seems better this afternoon. He was sitting up in bed."

Gaara nodded, some of the tightness easing from his chest. He hadn't been conscious of how worried he was until the relief hit him. "Good. What did you want to discuss with me?"

Temari slipped into the chair across from his desk. "I need to tell Kankuro and you something, and I think it'd be best if I told you first."

Those words were all Gaara needed to hear; he knew immediately what she would say. Still, he let her proceed. "Very well."

Taking a deep breath, Temari seemed to collect herself. "Shikamaru has asked me to marry him. We're engaged."

Gaara wasn't exactly caught off guard by the news. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." Temari paused, biting at her lip momentarily. "There's more, though."

Once again, Gaara knew what she would say. "You'll be moving to Konoha." It wasn't much of a leap of logic. In both Konoha and Suna, women were expected to adapt to their husbands' lives, not the other way around. The Nara family wouldn't understand or accept it if Shikamaru moved to Suna instead. Women were expected to leave behind their old lives, even their family if necessary, and start a new family with their husbands. Essentially, a wedding ceremony was the transfer of property — the woman — between a father and a husband, which was the origin of fathers "giving away" the bride. Given that Temari had always claimed to be a feminist, Gaara was surprised that she'd caved in without a fight. Then again, she would never be accepted by her in-laws if she didn't.

Temari cringed. "Yeah, I will be." She clenched her knees with her hands. "Look, I realize Suna is still underpowered, and the loss of even one jonin is a big deal. Konoha can stand to lose more than we can, and I feel bad about depleting our forces this way. But . . ." She trailed off, clearly unable to explain her decision in business terms.

However, the status of the village was the least of Gaara's concerns. Kazekage or not, his first reaction was based on their family. "We'll miss you."

"I know." Temari squeezed her knees harder. "I'll miss you guys, too. This isn't easy, and I'm surprised to find myself in this position. But really, I'll only be three days away. I'm sure Naruto and you can figure out a way for me to do a lot of joint missions, if you like."

_I meant Kankuro and I, not the village._ Gaara sighed, wondering if he should bother to explain himself. Suddenly he understood what had Kankuro so upset. "If you've decided to tell me first, as you said, then it's obvious that you know our brother will not take this well."

"No, he won't." Apparently unable to stay still, Temari pushed out of the chair. Growing silent, she wandered over to the table that held Gaara's tea cups, tea balls, and other such supplies. Methodically, she poured water from the pitcher left there that morning and put the now-full pot on the small electric burner. "Did Kankuro ever tell you that Father hit him when he was a kid?"

The quill in Gaara's hand creaked with the sudden pressure of his grip. "_What?_" The words seemed like a non sequitur and a distressing one at that.

"Yeah." Temari sounded exhausted and sad. Opening the can of green tea, she shook the leaves faintly, staring down at them as she did. "At first, Father loved me despite being disappointed that I wasn't compatible with Shukaku. I looked a lot like Mom, and according to our grandmamma, that's why he adored me and spoiled me. I was a little brat." She glanced at Gaara and smiled, but the expression didn't warm her eyes. "Grandmamma also said that Father instantly lost interest in Kankuro when he didn't inherit the magnetism release."

Gaara set down his quill and glared at his desk. He'd achieved closure after fighting his father during the war, but now he felt angry again. "That's ridiculous."

"As you know, he always had high expectations for his sons," Temari murmured, filling the tea balls with leaves and placing them in the cups. "Of course, Father began ignoring me once he became obsessed with you, but for Kankuro . . . things were never easy. I think if he hadn't shown such promise with the puppet jutsu — if Chiyo-baa hadn't acknowledged that and endorsed his training — Father might have ultimately sent Kankuro away to live with his cousins, kind of like he sent you away to live with Uncle Yashamaru." She paused as the water boiled and then silently poured two cups.

Gaara heard the distinct splash of the water hitting the cups' bottoms, and he found his gaze locked on the steam rising into the air. A black sense of foreboding bubbled in his chest. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Kankuro wasn't randomly a bully as a kid." Temari glanced back at Gaara and frowned. "He was very angry and somewhat insecure, although he pulled himself out of both. Father's rejection of him hurt a great deal, and even I can't guess the damage done by all those slaps, kicks, and punches."

In his mind, Gaara saw endless kunai flying toward him . . . swords, poisoned needles, explosive tags — assassin after assassin sent to kill him. "I can," he mumbled, faintly nauseated.

Temari returned to staring at their tea cups, her shoulders tensing. "Once all Father's attention transferred to you, even though it was in an entirely negative way, both Kankuro and I found ourselves on the outside. Regardless of whether Father was plotting to kill you or training you in his jutsu, we became like castoffs to him. He had no time or attention for either of us."

Reaching up, Gaara pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "Which is part of why you both hated me."

"No." Temari's voice was sharp. She pulled the tea balls from their cups and set them aside, thunking them down with more force than necessary. "We were afraid of you, but we never hated you. We also couldn't be fully jealous, not since his attention on you was so negative." She turned toward him, facing him. "But it left us essentially alone in the world."

"I understand that." Gaara understood it all too well.

She turned away again, grabbing the cups. "After Father began ignoring me, too, and all our grandparents died, Kankuro and I ended up doing everything together. We played together, trained together, went to classes together. We got really close. We weren't just siblings; we were best friends, almost like emotionally conjoined twins. In a sense, we even parented each other." She carried the tea over to the desk, setting Gaara's cup down in front of him. "Me getting married and moving away will be hard for Kankuro. I get that. Although it probably didn't look like it from the outside, since we were good at hiding our true feelings, we've always been very close. But when you grow up, you put away childish things. It can't always be this way. Someday, we both have to grow up, get married, and move out. That time has come for me. As I tried to explain to him when we had our fight, I'll always be his sister. I'll always be there for him. Likewise, he'll always be my brother, my port in a storm. Just because I'm getting married doesn't mean I love him any less. Just like Kankuro can't replace my husband, Shikamaru can't replace my brother. Or you, for that matter."

Gaara stared at his sister, realizing she had no idea what she was saying or to whom she was saying it. All of his life, he'd wanted nothing more than to bond with another person, deeply bond. He'd wanted someone to love him; he'd wanted someone to love. He'd clung to his mother's ghost, or rather clung to the idea of a loving mother, because that was all he'd had. Once that had been torn from him, he'd been unable to remain sane. Still, in his heart he'd longed, absolutely pined, for someone to call him special. He ached for a relationship in which the other person would consider him irreplaceable, in which the other would love him above all, in which he could safely expose and bare every inch of his soul. Temari had achieved that level of intimacy and love with Kankuro, and now she was trading it in so she could build that relationship with another instead. Gaara understood that she had fallen in love, but from his point of view, she was throwing away the one thing he desired most in life. And all his achievements — becoming Kazekage, gaining respect, being acknowledged — were nothing but dust and ash compared to Gaara's need to be loved.

"It's your choice," he finally answered, taking a sip of his tea. "It's your happiness. It's your life, and it's your future. But don't expect me to take your side. For the sake of our family, I can't take either of your sides, but you should know I'm hurt by your decision, also."

Although she'd started to take a drink of her tea, Temari stopped short and stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"Our family." Gaara stood, grabbing his cup and carrying it back to the table. Suddenly, the thought of drinking tea made him nauseated. "There are only three of us left, and now there will be two."

Temari sighed and set her cup on his desk. "Look, just because I'm moving to a different village doesn't mean I'm dying. If you really need me, just send for me. I'll be there."

Gaara plopped the cup down, the china rattling with the brusqueness of his movement, but he couldn't bring himself to turn away from the table and meet his sister's gaze. "Being here in a crisis is not the same as sharing your life with us." He paused, not used to putting his emotions out on display. He'd done it a few times in his life — most notably during his speech to the Combined Forces — but it still wasn't easy for him. However, there was a lot at stake here; he only had two family members left, after all.

He decided it was time to _speak,_ emotional display or not.

"We'll be family because we share blood," Gaara continued, letting himself say what he needed to say. "As I well know, nothing can change that, not betrayal, not hurt, and not death. But there is a difference between having an unbreakable bond with someone and actually maintaining closeness on a daily basis. For example, you wouldn't think to live in a different village from your husband; you'd want to spend every day with him. To share a life."

"Well, of course." Temari turned in her chair so she could face Gaara. "He's my _husband._ Or he will be."

"But Kankuro and I will be on the outside of your life." Gaara realized suddenly that he understood why Kankuro had gotten in an argument with their sister. "We won't know what's going on with you until days after the fact because all our communication will be by carrier letters. Even if you have an emergency, we won't be able to reach you for three days. We'll be there as soon as we can because we love you. Because we're family. But that's not the same as sitting down to supper with you every evening, or even once a week, and asking you how your week went."

For long moments, Temari frowned at her lap. "What are you asking me to do?" she whispered. "What can I do? I don't want to hurt you guys, but I _love_ Shikamaru. I didn't mean to fall in love, but I did. He's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I want to marry him, share my life with him, eventually have children with him. And in order to do that, we have to live in the same village." She inhaled then exhaled deeply. "It's not like Shikamaru and I didn't talk about this stuff. We've discussed all the possibilities and consequences, and we've decided me moving to Konoha is the best solution."

Finally, Gaara turned away from the table and met her gaze. "And that is your choice to make, not mine. I will not be the one to get in the way of your happiness. It would achieve nothing. You would lose the love of your life, and you would resent me for it forever. The relationship with you that I don't want to lose I would lose anyway. My only option is to give you my blessing, so I'm going to give it freely."

"Gee, don't sound so thrilled," Temari drawled sarcastically.

"But although I refuse to condemn you for your choice," Gaara continued, "I also can't condone what you're doing to Kankuro in the process."

"Not you, too." She clutched her hands in her lap.

"I'm sorry, but it's obvious to me." Gaara walked to his bookcase and pulled a tome off the shelf. Having decided to speak, he found he wanted to explain himself well. It wasn't enough to let his thoughts be known; he wanted to truly communicate. "This is the history of Suna." He held up the brown leather book. "Our ancestors mostly originated in the country of Earth. They were working class people who had no opportunities or future. They were shinobi who followed alternative training methods, values, and beliefs. Some of them were even criminals. They left the land of plenty to eke out an existence in the desert because it bought them their freedom, and when they made that decision, they had to create a worldview by which they could justify leaving behind their homes, their families, and their roots. They had to successfully argue that independence, freedom, and opportunity were more important than roots, family, and heritage."

Temari's brow had furrowed. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying we are the inheritors of that will. That independence is the Will of Wind." Gaara paused, knowing full well that he had not inherited the Will of Wind at all; instead, he had adopted the Will of Fire. "In our culture, it's not odd for families to spread out across the entire country or even to move to another country. Individual happiness, independence, and success are more important to us than maintaining community, family, or heritage. For this reason, none of the Kazekages has been related to each other; I am the first son to be the heir to his father's position." It was that focus on independence and success that had informed Gaara's father's attitude toward him; Gaara had been measured by that ruler instead of by his value as a son.

"I guess." Temari still sounded confused.

Wanting her to see his view, Gaara pressed forward. "Don't misunderstand me. I understand our cultural values, and I won't insult them. Although freedom must always be bought at a price, it is a worthwhile goal." He replaced the tome on the shelf. "At the same time, I won't say that no other cultures and their values have any validity. When I chose to protect the village, when I chose to live and fight for the village instead of only living and fighting for myself, I rejected the Will of Wind. I will not accept the argument that my adherence to a different set of values makes me wrong. If I validate your choice, I must also validate my choice to be your opposite."

Standing stiffly, Temari nearly came to attention. "I see, sir. I didn't realize my decision to _get married_ and start _my own family_ had such far-flung — and negative — implications." She smirked. "Am I dismissed?"

Gaara wondered at what point she felt like they stopped talking as brother and sister. "You aren't here as my subject, neesan." He sighed and returned to his chair, realizing she felt attacked. "I'm not saying your choice is invalid; I'm saying both positions have merit and value. I'm not dressing you down, but at the same time, I'm not finished making my point. This isn't about me; this is about Kankuro."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Temari didn't reply.

Although he knew she felt like he had sided with Kankuro and was ganging up on her, Gaara steeled himself to resume. "On the surface, Kankuro and I seem like we have nothing in common. He's extroverted; I'm introverted. He's obsessed with the performing arts; I'm philosophical and a workaholic. He enjoys staging his battles; I fight simply to defend those I love. However, all those differences are merely surface details to me. There is a way in which we are the same: we have the same values and beliefs. What he desires most in life is the same as what I desire."

"What, exactly, are you saying?" Temari's eyes had narrowed.

He hated that he had to be quite this blunt, but he saw no purpose or use in being indirect or subtle. "I will do my best to take care of Kankuro once you're gone. It will suit me fine if he lives here in the mansion with me until the day he dies. For all I care, he can move his future wife into the mansion and raise his children here. I'm unlikely to marry, much less have children of my own. I simply lack the interest. I'd be happy to play the role of the doting uncle instead. But it's that very thing that makes your argument fall flat with me. If I had managed to build the relationship with you that Kankuro has, I would be just as crushed as he is. As it is, I have to mourn is the loss of the chance to build that relationship with you in the first place."

Temari flinched, clearly feeling slapped. "I can do no right by either of you, I see. I'm sorry I can't be the sister that you two need me to be."

"Don't apologize." Gaara held back a second sigh. "I'm not looking for an apology. Just be realistic. Kankuro's pain is understandable. You can't expect him to act like nothing's happening here." Even as he admitted that, Gaara wasn't quite sure how to tell his brother that. Right now, he felt that Kankuro needed to understand his sister the best he could so that he didn't end up staying angry at her forever. When he'd talked with Kankuro several days earlier, all Gaara could think to do was to explain Temari's position to him, hoping it would help him hurt less. However, he'd clearly failed.

"I don't expect that. Am I dismissed?" Temari's jaw rippled.

Gaara knew she was angry at him, but he couldn't see a way that he could have softened the blow. He suspected that he'd equally failed in his attempt to explain Kankuro's position to Temari, or at least failed in any way that would actually prove helpful. "Yes."

"Thank you, _Kazekage-sama_." She teleported from the room.

Gaara would have been exasperated with her except in the last moment before she vanished, he caught sight of tears standing in her eyes.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Although I have always thought Temari and Shikamaru make a cute couple, I think I figured out why Kishimoto said he has no desire to pair them up. And really, I've never been quite able to imagine Temari leaving her brothers. Still, I've decided to take on the implications of Shikamari, so we'll see how it goes._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: For those who may be new to Japanese culture or anime, a yukata is a casual, cotton kimono that often has patterns like diamonds, flowers, bamboo, or kanji on it. They are typically worn to festivals and after bathing at traditional inns or bathhouses._

_I'm not giving a name to Kankuro's girlfriend on purpose. Imagine whomever you like._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

In his workshop, Kankuro sat filing a wooden block cut roughly in the shape of a head. Since he was being forced to take an entire month's leave, he'd turned his efforts to fixing up his puppets and building a new one, specifically a second Karasu. Having been bedridden for the first week, he'd been desperate to escape the hospital and do something — anything other than sleep and stare at the ceiling. Gaara had asked him to remain in his room, but the worktable in there was for minor repairs, adjustments, and touchups. His main workshop in the basement was where he carved and fashioned his puppets.

Usually, this activity was relaxing, but today his thoughts were stuck on Temari. For an entire week, Kankuro had been grappling with the concept that one of his worst fears was being realized: his sister was moving to another village, another country. This was not a future Kankuro had wanted. He'd never wanted the kind of relationship with his sister in which they only saw each other during family reunions or holidays and had to spend all their time discussing the good ol' days or playing catch up because they knew nothing about each other anymore.

What was more, this was not a future Kankuro had imagined. As a young child, he had lived in a world filled with endless tests, evaluations, and judgments. Since he hadn't inherited the magnetism release, he felt he had no way to completely win his father's approval, and in order to measure up to his father's expectations in what meager ways he could, he'd undergone intense, harsh training. He and his sister had constantly been at odds as young kids because their father showed her favoritism. Unfortunately, during that same time period, the two people whom Kankuro believed loved him, his maternal grandmother and grandfather, both died. He'd become withdrawn and sullen.

But their father's attention had refocused on Gaara and his training, and somehow, things had begun to change. Soon thereafter, Temari and he had bonded closely, seeing themselves as two siblings against the world. Finally, he'd been able to build the deep, lifelong bond he'd wanted, and no matter what had gone wrong, they had each other. They'd done their best to hide their feelings from others, afraid that Suna's ethic would require they be split apart, but in truth, they had patched each other's wounds, covered each other's backs, and even secretly cried to each other during the night. Now, though, that bond was slipping through Kankuro's fingers like sawdust.

A knock sounded at the door, ringing throughout the workshop, and Kankuro jumped faintly, having been too lost in thought. He reached out with his senses and felt his brother's familiar chakra. "Come in."

The door creaked as it was pushed open. "I brought you food."

Kankuro glanced over his shoulder, noting both the tray Gaara carried and the patterned yukata he was wearing. "What's the occasion?"

"You, still drained, down here working and forgetting to eat." Gaara stared him down, but his irritation was momentary. After setting the tray down on the worktable, he hovered by his shoulder. "You know you're not going to heal if you don't eat, and you're already ten pounds underweight as it is."

"Am not." Kankuro couldn't help it if he'd grown three inches while only gaining two pounds. Still, at the sight and smell of miso soup, fish, and rice, he realized he was hungry, even if the fish was burnt. Gaara had to have actually cooked it himself. "Thanks, though."

"No problem." He turned toward the door. "I'm heading to the star gazing festival."

Eyeing his brother, Kankuro considered his outfit. His yukata sported a crimson and navy checkered pattern which was offset by a white obi. "Oh, so that's the occasion. One of those squealing girls ask you out or something?"

Turning back, Gaara offered him a faint shrug. "Matsuri, actually. We're going as friends."

"Poor girl. She's got the worst crush on you." Kankuro grinned and attacked his supper.

"Aren't you going to disobey medical orders and take your girlfriend, too?" Gaara gestured to his dirty clothes. "If so, you better get cleaned up soon; I doubt that girls like dusty guys." He paused. "Not that I think you _should_ go, of course. You should rest."

Kankuro shook his head. "You know I'd try, but she's not back from her mission." Which sucked. "Neither is Shiro, actually. Not that it much matters; it took all my strength just to walk down here. Medical orders or not, I don't think I'm up to navigating the festival." He frowned, irritated. The med nins kept insisting he was pushing himself too hard, but he always had made the worst patient.

"I see." For a moment, Gaara hesitated, watching him eat. "Have you talked to our neesan yet?"

Although he wasn't finished eating, Kankuro set down his chopsticks. "I haven't seen her all week." He glanced at his brother. "I assume she's already gone for the night."

Gaara nodded slowly. "Shikamaru was with the Konoha team that assisted us today. Temari and he are at the festival already." He stared at the floor, clearly uncomfortable. "You should at least watch the fireworks from the roof."

"If I can climb up there," Kankuro admitted sheepishly. He pushed aside his half-eaten meal and picked up his wood file again, staring down at the roughly-cut head.

"The conflict with Temari is still bothering you." Gaara walked over and settled on the workbench beside him. "I understand that. But you have a girlfriend now, too."

"Yeah, I know, _jan._" It was true. As always, he had Shiro, but after four months of Temari's absenteeism, he'd started hanging out with new people. As a result, he'd finally begun dating again, having avoided girls for a year after a particularly nasty breakup.

But the best friend Kankuro had wanted most in life, the one he had treasured most, and the one who had made him the happiest was not his to have or keep. Kankuro had to step back and make room for Temari's fiancé, future husband, future children — for that new life. It was normal and natural, but it also meant that the soul-level friendship he had shared with her was being torn out of him painfully.

Gaara sighed. "Temari said something odd the other day. Is it possible that this situation is made worse because of the issues between you and Father and Temari and Father? It seems obvious to me that you're convinced that you're disposable and replaceable. And she's convinced —"

"Not true!" Kankuro slammed down his wood file, making several screws and bolts dance across the table. He picked at the file with one finger, roughening up his skin and nearly making himself bleed. "Okay, fine. Partially true." He'd figured out that much on his own. Thanks to their father, Temari and he both feared being ditched, unloved, unwanted, and used. However, the issue between them was bigger than his — their — abandonment issues. It was about the way they'd discussed the future would work and the way it was really turning out.

"Temari isn't like Father," Gaara said quietly. "She won't stop loving you. She won't love you less just because she's gotten married. I know things are changing, but it doesn't mean that you will no longer matter to her."

Theoretically, Kankuro knew that Gaara was right, but since it felt like Temari was rejecting the bond they'd had since they were kids, he couldn't reconcile the two concepts. What was more, there was no way for him to remain the same while Temari was drastically changing; they had played such huge roles in each other's lives that change in one always caused change in the other. When they were younger, this had always been a good thing because if one got stronger the other did, too. This time the effects were murkier.

"I do understand you, in my own way," Gaara continued. "But at the same time, I think you should know that Temari said the other day that she feels like you're pulling away from her."

Unconsciously, Kankuro applied too much pressure on the file and slit his finger open. He pulled his hand away and watched the blood seep from the wound; it beaded on his fingertip before dropping to the tabletop. Strangely, he didn't even feel the pain. "I know," he whispered. He _never_ wanted Temari to feel that way. "She told me that when we fought, but what can I do if she's never around?"

"I don't have an answer for that one." Gaara shrugged one shoulder. "It's not like this is one-sided. Half of it is not yours to carry — or to decide." He gave him a tiny, sad smile. "Or, knowing you, let me put it this way: it's not your fault, and I didn't tell you this to make you feel guilty."

Kankuro licked the blood off his finger. "I don't see that I have any choice, even half a one." Since he would never get in the way of his sister's happiness, he had no choice but to step aside.

"I have some thoughts about that," Gaara said quietly, "but frankly, you're in mourning. For you, this is much like watching someone die in slow motion. You're not ready to hear what I have to say, so just know I'm here."

That seemed terribly mysterious to Kankuro, but he suspected his brother was right. "Thanks, man." And as though to prove Gaara's point, Kankuro's thoughts would not be still. The day of his big fight with Temari, Kankuro had hoped that by explaining how he felt, how everything looked from his point of view, Temari would understand his fears. Until Temari had said so, Kankuro hadn't realized that she felt like he was pulling away, too. Granted, Kankuro had given her space; he'd given her the space needed to build a romantic relationship. At first, Kankuro had the sensation that he wasn't giving Temari enough space, and he felt that was inappropriate. Now Kankuro had to wonder if he'd given Temari more space than was necessary, but he just had no idea. It wasn't like Kankuro had ever been in that kind of situation before. Once again, though, he wasn't sure that he could fix it when Temari was never around anymore.

"How does it work?" Kankuro finally asked. "What does it really mean to bond with someone? What does it mean to have a friend?"

Gaara leaned against his shoulder — something that both surprised Kankuro and comforted him. Given that he had sat on the bench backwards, they ended up staring at opposite walls. "Well, based on what I've learned from observing others, friendships take three things: reciprocation, honesty, and time. A friend is someone who gives as much as they take. A friend is someone who you can tell anything to, even embarrassing or hurtful things, and they won't laugh at you or stay angry at you. A friend is someone who spends time with you and works to build and maintain the relationship."

Time.

In the end, it had become about time: Kankuro had been asked to share Temari's time with Shikamaru, but in the end, all of the time Kankuro had once spent with Temari now went to Shikamaru instead. While Kankuro had been prepared to share, he hadn't been prepared to lose Temari altogether, and that loss hurt. Even the little time Temari was home she spent plotting to leave again; all their conversations were about her preparations to move. Kankuro didn't feel like he was pulling away; he felt like he had been pushed out the door inch-by-inch and was now standing alone in an empty street.

And, ultimately, there were only twenty four hours in a day, and in order to feel less lonely, Kankuro had begun filling up his days with new people, also. He figured that wasn't bad, and it wasn't good. It wasn't blame-worthy. It simply _was_.

In the end, if the kind of soul-close friendship he'd wanted with his sister was unattainable — something that couldn't ultimately continue to exist — he wasn't sure what life, love, and bonds were supposed to be. He felt lost, and he wasn't sure how to even begin to find his way through such confusion.

* * *

><p>In the labyrinth of the Kazekage Complex's research library, Kankuro and Baki sat at the table in the historical records section, researching the Aida, a nomadic shinobi clan who only passed close to Suna's borders every forty years. Given the war-like nature of the tribe and the suspiciousness of their movements, Gaara had ordered Baki to look into past accounts and organize a reconnaissance mission. Because Kankuro was still on medical leave, he'd demanded to help with the research since he couldn't go on the mission.<p>

"There's only a little bit here," Kankuro said, glancing over the books and scrolls piled between them. "Just the story of the Aida clan's origins."

Baki rolled up the scroll he'd finished and set it on the "done" side of the pile. "You're still having better luck than I am."

Kankuro jotted down some notes, then closed his book and set it on the "done" pile, too. "Man, the people who wrote this junk sure made it boring, _jan._" He let his gaze wander over the towering bookcases that filled the room. The aisles were barely wide enough for one person, so between the dark wood and crammed space, the library inspired claustrophobia. It was the musty smell of old paper that bothered Kankuro, though. Or maybe it was the dust. Either way, he couldn't stop sneezing.

Leaning back in his chair, Baki stretched, lifting his arms high over his head and then rolling his neck. "We've gone three hours straight. Should we take a break?"

"Don't have to ask me twice." Kankuro stood, lifting his arms in a tall stretch that mimicked Baki's.

Baki watched him from his chair. "Don't you have an appointment this afternoon?"

"Appointment?" Kankuro lifted his leg and propped his foot on the round table. He folded over, grabbing his toes and stretching his hamstring. He'd found over the weeks that he needed to stretch more thoroughly and more often than usual. Sakura was still researching the jutsu among Konoha's medical texts, but she had verified its general nature as life-stealing. "I don't need to see those pushy med nins 'til the end of the week."

"I meant the psych nin."

Kankuro dropped his leg and stared at his old sensei. "Who told you about that?" He frowned, disturbed. Baki was the kind of man who usually stigmatized other shinobi for seeing psych nins.

"It was hinted at in an offhand comment Temari made the other day." Baki's face was as stoic as ever. "If you have an appointment, then don't miss it on account of the research."

Trying to figure out if there were a double message, Kankuro watched Baki closely. "All right. What's up?"

Baki stood slowly, as though his back were stiff, and grabbed the pile of books and scrolls they'd already read. "Perhaps nothing." He walked over to the book cart the librarian had left for them, stacking the texts there. "Perhaps everything. I'm wondering if this has something to do with Temari, or if it's just caution on the part of the med nins, given the odd jutsu you were attacked by."

"Oh." Kankuro wasn't quite sure what to do with that. He didn't sense any disdain, though, so he decided to be honest. After all, Baki had been his sensei for years, and in a way, he was almost like an uncle. "Both. The med nins were being paranoid, and I did end up discussing Temari. Why?"

Baki turned to face him, leaning against the cart and crossing his arms. "Well, to be blunt, I can tell something is up between Temari and you. You two are acting funny around each other. Very tense."

"Why do you care?" Kankuro didn't mean to be rude; he was truly curious. Baki didn't exactly have fatherly tendencies.

Baki sighed. "Because everything is changing again. Honestly, when you two were younger, I was worried. The way you were focused on each other . . . the way you even shared a bed with each other sometimes . . . I worried that some kind of unholy bond had developed between you."

Kankuro flinched, the horror striking him like a slap. "Unholy?" It wasn't the first time he'd heard such words applied to his relationship with Temari, but it never failed to anger him as much as it had the first time. He leaned forward, pressing on the table with both fists. "You thought we were committing _incest_? You thought I was trying to seduce my own _sister_? Shit, Baki, how can you even think like that!"

Holding up both hands in surrender, Baki waited for him to stop. "I apologize. I should've realized sooner than I did that you'd never do such a thing."

Since Baki wasn't close enough to punch, Kankuro picked up the nearest scroll and hurled it directly at his head. "What the fuck are you _thinking_? Besides, we haven't shared a bed since I hit puberty."

Baki ducked and held up his hands again as he straightened. "Again, I apologize. But you don't know what it looked like from the outside. Besides, I already said that I no longer think that."

For a moment, Kankuro was struck by how twisted and wrong his culture was to believe that physical affection was only sexual in nature. "That's stupid." He paused, realizing he was responding more to his own thoughts than Baki's words. "What's wrong with Suna? We let parents hold their kids, and sometimes we let friends or other family members hug. But past that, all other affection is sexualized." He crossed his arms, still glaring at his old sensei. "It's stupid. Either our culture is oversexed or it's too paranoid."

Baki sighed and slipped back into his chair. "Maybe. Maybe I can't argue that." He raised one arm in a block. "Don't throw more scrolls at me, but the way Temari and you had bonded, the way you shared your feelings with her and learned how to cook alongside her . . . I also wondered if you might be gay."

Kankuro plopped onto his chair as well, staring at Baki with hooded eyes. "Not that again. Seriously, Baki. I've lost count of the number of times I've been 'accused' of being gay." Now that he was almost 19, he was secure in his sexual identity and could have gay friends without feeling uncomfortable. However, when he'd been a preteen fighting his way into adulthood, the insinuations had been confusing and scary. "Look, there's no hidden meaning behind the theatrical paint I wear."

"I know, I just — "

"Let me finish," Kankuro interrupted. "Around the time I began wearing the paint, I took a lot of shit over it. I was made fun of for wearing 'makeup' and for playing with 'dolls.' It was so immature." He sighed, propping one elbow on the table and leaning his cheek against his fist. Anymore, the topic exhausted him instantly. "No one my age understood that I was making an allusion to kabuki theater or that the origin of the puppet jutsu is bunraku, not little girls' dolls."

Baki seemed abashed. "I know that. I always did."

"They didn't." Kankuro stared past Baki's shoulder, his gaze stuck on an ink painting of a lone cactus battered by a sandstorm. "So much was said to me over the years that I actually had to sit down and ask myself some really tough questions about my sexuality." It was a condensed, simplified version of the story, but Baki didn't need to know all the details, only the conclusion. "When I got to the end, I realized it had never been a question. I'm straight. I feel no attraction whatsoever to male bodies."

Baki watched him silently, possibly struck by the sheer, calm matter-of-factness in Kankuro's tone. "I see." He nodded once. "I had come to the same conclusion myself."

Kankuro's gaze snapped back to him, his eyes narrowing. "If you've already got all the answers, then why wonder if I was molesting my own sister?"

"I said 'had come to.' It was a process. I suspect now that you have a complex relationship with Temari that's part sibling and part parent-child."

_Parent-child? _Kankuro considered the concept for a moment, then decided he understood why Baki felt that way. Being orphaned, Kankuro and Temari had to learn to parent themselves, and in Temari's case, her attitude had turned rather motherly over the years. Maybe his had turned fatherly, too.

Baki leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. "It seemed to me at the time, though, that the attention and affection you showed Temari was the kind that you would show to a wife."

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Kankuro stood again, too restless to remain seated. "Not that again. It's always 'You're gay' or 'This is the kind of relationship you reserve for a wife.'" He crossed the room, retrieving the scroll he'd thrown and putting it back on the table. "Again with the oversexed culture. And why the either/or, huh?" He snorted and turned to glare at Baki's back. "Why is everything so black and white? Why not and/both, _jan_?" He really wanted to punch something. He wasn't sure which angered him most: the fact that the greatest act of love in his life kept being called 'unholy' and 'wrong' or that people kept telling him that he was only allowed to be soulmates with his future wife and not anyone else. They eliminated the potential feelings and relationships he could have, narrowing down and restricting his emotions, boxing him into their view of The Way It Should Be.

For a long moment, Baki didn't reply, then he shifted in his chair to gaze up at Kankuro. "Maybe you have a point. Maybe not. How much do you know about the First Kazekage?"

It seemed a bizarre transition. "The usual. Founder of our village, lineage, jutsu — that kinda shit."

Pushing out of his chair, Baki wandered across the room to the oldest books in the library. "Then you might be interested to learn a bit about the relationship he had with his neesan." He ran his fingertip down the books' spines, clearly searching for something. "My brother mentioned it to me — he's a history buff — and I looked it up. It's what settled all my remaining concerns about Temari and you."

Irritation swept through Kankuro once more, but he managed to hold it in. "Yeah? What about them, _jan_?" His curiosity was vaguely peaked.

Baki found the volume he wanted and plucked it from the shelf. He turned toward Kankuro, opening the book as he did. "Apparently the First and his sister, Youko, were so close that the First wrote that he valued his sister's love equally as much as his wife's."

Surprised, Kankuro couldn't respond. _Someone like me?_he wondered, feeling oddly validated.

"The whole story is here." Baki held up the book, revealing the page in question. "In short, Youko — who was born first — was the more likely candidate for becoming our first Kazekage. She was just as strong as her ototo, but when she saw how much her brother dreamed of establishing a village and leading it, she stepped out of the way. The First became Kazekage because his sister sacrificed her own dream to secure his happiness. That's how great the love between them was."

Kankuro nodded. "I understand that." Temari had never desired to become Kazekage, and Gaara was stronger than them both; but if things had been different, Kankuro would've never gotten in the way of his sister's dream. As it was, he'd gladly sacrificed smaller things — anything he could do to help Temari.

"The First also alludes to a set of male cousins in his family who lived a hundred years before he was born. They, too, had a kinship that surpassed normal friendship and entered the realm of soulmates. They went through a ceremony to 'adopt' each other as brothers, swore their lives to each other, and one ultimately died for the other. It wasn't sexual, but they were even seen holding hands and kissing on the cheek. According to historians, such things weren't odd at the time. In fact, such friendships were celebrated and lauded. It would seem that when the village was founded, cultural expectations and beliefs shifted. By the time the Second came to power, such friendships or brotherhoods made people uncomfortable instead."

Oddly, it made Kankuro hurt worse to realize that if he had been born two hundred years earlier, Temari and he could have been very open about their closeness and still been accepted as normal. Obviously there had once been room in the world for men like him, but no more. "You know, I never really cared if people thought we were freaks or not." It was true; he'd been too happy to care. "But I can't deny that once Temari started dating she told me that she . . . ultimately preferred to build that kind of connection with a husband."

Frowning, Baki walked over and set the book on the table. "Sounds almost like a breakup. You can see, then, why I was worried."

Either/or. Natural/unnatural. Accepted/unaccepted. Gay/straight. Black/white. Suddenly depressed, Kankuro dragged over to his chair and sank into it once more. "Is this it, then? I must choose? The bond that I imagined isn't real, or if it is, it's wrong now?"

"I don't know." Baki sounded unusually kind and patient. "What is 'normal'? To a certain extent, society decides these things as a whole, and you shouldn't make yourself stick out too much. 'A nail that sticks up will be hammered down.' You've pushed as far as you can by using the kabuki-style paint and casting yourself into the role of the Unconventional." He walked over to Kankuro and squeezed his shoulder. "More than that, however, it's the matter of Temari's choice. Temari has chosen the lifestyle she desires, and if you love her, you must honor that. If you don't, you'll only hurt her. And yourself."

_I already have hurt her._ Kankuro crossed his arms over his stomach and hunched forward. _And I guess I don't get a choice in the matter._ For a moment, just a bare moment, he had found a precedent of this relationship he coveted. Two of them, in fact. He had seen hope and found a niche he could exist in, only to have it torn away in the next instant. And now he was more confused and defeated than ever. "So it's like what my psych nin said? It's really not okay to have a soulmate other than a romantic one, and it's all about how I don't have 'boundaries' or something?"

"Well, I'm not a psych nin, so I don't know much about boundaries or the lack thereof." Baki leaned his hip against the table. "But that makes sense to me. I've seen you let people emotionally abuse you before." He reached out to squeeze his shoulder a second time. "I suspect that is your father's fault, ultimately." His voice dropped. "I saw the way he treated you."

Kankuro couldn't find a reply to that. He couldn't begin to discuss that issue with Baki, who had seen the abuse and done nothing.

"But just because your father did it, you shouldn't allow others to do it, too," Baki continued quietly.

Ignoring the words, Kankuro became lost in his thoughts. His psych nin had told him that relationships were central in his life, that for someone with his personality type, strong relationships were a core value. He was supposed to create close bonds, but now apparently some bonds were too close. Apparently some were "wrong." All the concepts seemed to clash in Kankuro's head, almost like a pack of hyenas fighting over a corpse. "Supposedly, I'm the type who 'builds intimate relationships.' So it's like 'get close but not too close.' 'Be selfless but maintain your boundaries.' 'Love sacrificially but don't give too much.' So which is it? Sacrificial love or boundaries? Giving your all or giving too much? Selflessness or self-defense?"

"Surely somewhere in between."

Kankuro shook his head. "Whatever." His neck and shoulders ached with knots created by stress; his jaw throbbed from unconsciously clenching it. "Just _whatever_." He was more confused than ever. "Can you handle this, _jan_? 'Cause if so, I'm outta here."

Baki frowned. "Certainly."

Not acknowledging his answer, Kankuro slipped into the hallway, merging with the shadows and disappearing into the night. He was so bewildered that he wondered if his heart could literally bleed out into his chest, and he needed to spill this whole story to someone who, unlike Gaara, wasn't personally involved. It was time to seek the only friend he'd ever had who had never called him a freak, never questioned his morality, and never found him to be odd in any way:

Shiro.

* * *

><p>An entire two weeks passed before Kankuro caught a moment with his sister.<p>

When Temari finally arrived home from Konoha after the recent Chunin Exams, Kankuro was standing on the roof's walkway, which functioned vaguely as a crow's nest. Since he sensed her chakra, he continued to gaze into the sunset, deep in thought. Temari joined him at the railing and stared over the village, its domed buildings capped with crimson sunlight and shadows stretching through the streets like lazy, black cats.

"What's up?" Kankuro asked, gazing into the horizon. Each time Temari left, she was gone longer. As a child, she'd showed disgust at the cultural expectation for women to move to whatever village their husband lived in, and as the Kazekage's daughter, she'd seen herself as part of a legacy. Now it was clear that she was going to set aside both her feminism and her legacy. Kankuro wondered how that transition had happened.

"I've been thinking a lot about all the things you said." Temari's voice sounded strained. "I've been thinking about some things Gaara said, too."

Kankuro flinched but didn't reply. The truth was, he'd fought so hard to put their argument out of his mind that he could no longer remember much of what he'd said. All he knew was that he'd tried hard to express how hurt he was, but he'd waited too long to speak. The truth of his pain was real, but he'd handled the situation badly. Temari had gotten so upset she'd actually cried, so he'd taken back everything he said, nullifying his own feelings in the process.

"There's a lot going on here, and it's all complicated." Temari sounded as though she were navigating a verbal minefield. "But there is one simple thing I realized: I hurt you." She crossed her arms over her stomach, bending faintly. "I don't want to admit it, and I didn't do it on purpose. But I did. I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's my bad, _jan._" Kankuro shrugged and turned to face her. Having already nullified his feelings once, he no longer could imagine how to speak the truth. And could he really tell his sister not to date or marry? Such a request was ludicrous. There shouldn't have been a contest between Shikamaru and him, given that their roles in Temari's life were so different, but somehow it had apparently become an either/or situation. And Kankuro had lost. Now all he could do was try to contextualize his reaction so even _more _people didn't think he was a freak. "Let's face it: other than you, no one loved me as a kid. We didn't have a mom, and Father was really messed up. Uncle Yashamaru and all our grandparents died by the time I was eight. Plus I scared away all the other kids with my puppet jutsu."

Temari's eyes widened, and he knew she felt shocked by his unusual transparency. Despite their bond, there were still some topics Kankuro didn't discuss, not with anyone.

Unsettled by his own openness, Kankuro turned away to stare out over the village again. "When I finally got my chance to have what I always wanted — someone to love and protect — I gave it everything I had. I . . . gave you my entire soul. But people keep telling me that I forge bonds too deep." His half smile was self-depreciating. "I always hated that and thought it was stupid, but lately I've begun wondering if it's true. Maybe I should be nothing more than the smartass punk that I am with most everyone else." He paused, realizing he'd said too much.

"What makes you say that?" All traces of Temari's usual teasing behavior, which she'd always used to lighten up their moods when their lives got too dark, were gone.

"Well, it doesn't work when I do." Kankuro smirked, having never imagined that Temari would qualify for that list. "You've seen the friends I've had. With the exception of Shiro, they've been totally fucking insane." And Shiro, no matter how good of a guy he was, wasn't the type that bonded at the soul-level with others. He always kept back a piece of himself, always kept one barrier in place, even with his own family. "And now the psych nin is trying to get me to learn to protect and hold up my 'personal boundaries.'"

"Is it working?"

"I think so." Kankuro shrugged. "I mean, I still care about people, but I don't give out my entire soul. If a friend starts to drift away, it doesn't bother me anymore, but if they're injured I'm worried. If they need me or my help, they have it, and I enjoy helping them. But if they get wrapped up in someone new and leave me, it doesn't hurt me."

"Are you sure that's what boundaries mean?"

"I guess." Kankuro frowned. "It feels kinda cold, though." To him, it simply felt as though he were holding everyone at arm's length so that he didn't get burnt again, but if so, he didn't see that he had much of a choice. Every time he extended himself fully to another person, he was ultimately rejected, even by his own sister. It didn't seem worth getting hurt all over again by someone new.

Temari shook her head. "I don't buy it. Don't you think that you'll have that kind of bond with your future wife? What about the girl you're dating now? She's stable and sane."

Although Kankuro snorted with laughter, it sounded hollow. Once again his feelings and personality were being rerouted into the Modern Socially Acceptable Version: romance. "Yeah, she's safe. I managed to avoid picking up another psycho, _jan._"

"Then try not to think of it as cold," she advised. "Try to see it as taking care of yourself. You can't take care of others properly if you sacrifice all your energy, health, and sanity."

The wind filtered through Kankuro's hair, blowing it back from his forehead and nearly carrying away his words. "Love _is_ sacrifice. You know that."

"Yeah, but I can only sacrifice my physical body once. While love is often inconvenient, it can't be allowed to kill your sanity and your soul." Temari clenched her fingers around the railing, clearly feeling driven to make her brother understand. "There _are_ boundaries, like lines drawn between people, that have to be maintained. I've seen how you care for others, how you've cared for me. You give everything until nothing is left. _This_—" She reached up and ran her fingertip over one of her brother's paint lines. "— is just a mask. A performance. Kankuro, you're special. And you have to protect that."

Kankuro watched her with a sad expression, a faint smile playing about his lips. "When did you get so wise, _jan?_" He looked out over the village again, but he didn't see even one of the buildings below. "And I know. But if what you say is true — if boundaries really mean this — then that deep bond isn't something I can give to anyone, even my future wife or children. The line has to be held for everyone to varying degrees. The bond that I imagined doesn't exist." The corner of his mouth twisted in an expression of irony, and he shot Temari a sideways glance. "Or rather, our bond was . . . was ultimately wrong and shouldn't have existed."

Time hung like dust motes in a sunray.

Temari reared back and slapped him in the face. "Don't say that! Don't you _ever_ say that again."

For a moment, Kankuro's rage was so intense he nearly slapped her back. It wouldn't be the first time they'd gotten into a physical fight with each other; as shinobi, they approached each other differently than typical boy-girl siblings. Still, he managed to restrain himself, simply covering his cheek with his hand. "What the fuck was that for?"

"We didn't have a father, not really, so _you_ taught me that there is love and hope." Temari's eyes glittered with her pain. "_You_ showed me what love and protection are. You showed me, and then I was able to go out and find a decent man to marry instead of just finding another broken man like our father. You helped me to heal, and that is _wrong?_"

"No, I can't say that." Kankuro's voice was quiet. He dropped his hand, letting it dangle at his side; he could feel the stinging, angry mark growing on his cheek. "What I did for you I've never done for anyone, not _anyone_. What I did for you was the best thing I've done in my life so far." Suddenly, he clenched his fists. "I would never take it back, not ever! If I was sent back in time, I would do it all over again. You're my _neesan._"

Temari's shoulders slumped. "You're not making any sense."

"I'm not sorry I gave you 'too much' of me," Kankuro explained, suddenly and unnaturally calm once more. "But everyone is telling me it's not a bond I can offer anyone again, not if I'm going to be healthy. Not if I'm going to have these elusive 'boundaries.'" He supposed they were right. Theoretically, he could heal the entire world like he had his sister, one person at a time, but eventually, there would be nothing of him left.

"That can't be true." Temari crossed her arms. "Why not your wife? And children? Won't you give all your love to them? I know you will. You'll be a wonderful father, I'm sure of it. You ended up being my replacement father, and because of that, I can love others."

Kankuro shook his head, a hollow smile on his lips. He felt like they were speaking two different languages, and neither of them could communicate correctly. All the words might be the same, but the ideas behind them were not being translated. No matter how much they spoke, no matter how much they explained, somehow they were only hurting each other because neither could understand what the other was truly saying. "It means a lot to me that you're finally happy and well-loved," he said, defaulting to the only truth left. "It's all I ever wanted, and it gives me hope for my own life."

Temari lowered her arms slowly. "You say that like you'll never speak to me again. Like you're somehow on the outside of it."

"No. I'll be where I'm supposed to be." Kankuro didn't point out how ironic her words were, given she now spent more time away from Suna than in it. "I've had trouble with all this, but I'm getting there. I promise to give you space and not to get in your way."

"Space?" Temari sounded confused. "You're not in my way."

Kankuro faced her fully. "Also, I'm sorry. When this exploded and we got in that horrible fight, I struck out with all the pain I'd been holding back, and it was poisonous." He paused, wondering why he was apologizing again. He felt that he needed to — that he needed to apologize repeatedly for actually making her cry. At the same time, he wondered if what he were really doing was apologizing for his own pain. His pain caused her pain, but his pain was the result of her decision. In the same way, he kept wondering what he should do to fix the situation, but he hadn't caused the situation. What was more, everyone kept telling him that the situation was normal, natural, and expected. If that were so, they neither one had anything to apologize for, nor was there anything to fix, especially on Kankuro's end. That didn't change the level of pain and loss he felt, though.

Once again, Kankuro found himself squarely confused.

"I've already forgiven you. It's all in the past now." Temari frowned. "Are you leaving?" Unspoken words seemed to hover under the surface of their conversation, words that could be sensed but not heard.

"Yeah, I've gotta get back to the Corps." Kankuro hopped up on the railing. "I've been down too long, and we lost some good people. Things are a mess." He imagined that he could almost hear her think _That's not what I meant,_ but he had no answer for her. He wasn't the one who'd chosen to change their relationship. In his mind, duality was possible; in her mind, duality was impossible.

As he jumped from rooftop to rooftop, Kankuro wondered if he'd ever see her outside of work ever again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The dojo dedicated to the puppet jutsu was built, unsurprisingly, to resemble a theater house. Rounded like most buildings in Suna, it and its domed roof were unremarkable from the outside. However, the foyer was grand and sweeping, the ceiling three stories high and sporting wrought iron candelabra. On each side, a staircase curved gracefully up each wall to the second and third stories, which contained workshops, offices, and classrooms. The "auditorium" itself was the training hall. It even had balconies and a stage, but that was simply to provide different "terrain" for the puppet masters to work from. The entire room was painted black — walls, floor, and ceiling — to enable them to complicate each other's lives by blending in to their surroundings.

As the new master of the Puppet Corps, Kankuro had spent the morning training academy students. He was the youngest master in Suna's history. However, their previous master had been killed in the war, and Kankuro already could control more puppets that the average jonin puppeteer. He took his new position quite seriously, but for the moment, he rested on a bench in the back of the auditorium and stared at the stage. A skylight had been built into roof, and he'd opened both it and the black curtains masking the windows, letting the morning sunlight stream in.

All the other puppeteers were off on missions, so when Kankuro heard the auditorium door slide open, he frowned in its direction. Only puppeteers were allowed beyond the foyer. No one was allowed to see them train; no one was permitted to witness the upgrades and changes in their puppets until they were employed on the battlefield. The only exception ever made was the Kazekage himself.

That and the man who had just bowed himself into the dojo: Ebizo.

"Good morning," Kankuro said, standing and inclining his head. The old man waved for him to sit back down, and Kankuro complied, wondering how and why he'd rated a visit from the remaining honored sibling.

"Good morning." Ebizo settled on the bench by him. "You must be wondering why I'm here. The answer is simple, really. Shiro said I should talk to you."

_Nosey bastard,_ Kankuro thought, not sure if he wanted to thank Shiro or punch him. Still, Shiro wouldn't have asked his grandfather to talk to him unless he thought Ebizo really could help. "Yeah, _jan_? About what?" Not that he didn't already know the answer.

"Temari," Ebizo replied bluntly.

Kankuro sighed. Ebizo had taken an interest in the new Kazekage and his siblings, perhaps because of his sister's final actions and wishes. He'd even visited the dojo several times and had long discussions with Kankuro, apparently out of respect for his sister's legacy. Therefore, Kankuro wasn't too terribly surprised that Shiro had convinced his grandfather to broach this topic with him. "Okay, shoot." He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

Ebizo stared out at the training room with its chairless, sloped floor. "My wife and I had trouble conceiving. We got married at 18, but by age 28, we still hadn't had any success. And that was after trying every technique, medicine, and jutsu known to humankind."

Although he remained quiet, Kankuro wondered why he was suddenly getting Ebizo's life story.

"Finally, when we'd given up all hope, we abruptly succeeded." Ebizo smiled faintly. "Our daughter, Aki, was born early and underweight, but she survived. After years of hopes, prayers, dreams, and desperation, we were beyond overjoyed. Even though we didn't outright spoil her, our lives still centered on her. She was the only child we managed to have, and we gave her our everything."

Kankuro deduced that there was likely a connection. Frowning, he watched Ebizo from the corner of his vision.

"To say I adored her is an understatement. I trained Aki myself, and after she made genin, I sometimes even took her on missions. She was definitely a daddy's girl." Ebizo leaned his head against the wall, staring up at the domed ceiling instead. "When she was twenty, though, she met a young man she liked better than the others she'd casually dated."

Suspicious, Kankuro suspected he knew where this story was headed.

"She'd moved in with some friends a few months earlier, but she still visited us several times a week. Once she began dating, though, she only visited once a week. Then once every two weeks. Then once a month."

Kankuro's chest burnt with the familiarity. "I see."

Ebizo nodded in acknowledgement then continued. "After they got married, we figured things would settle down, so we invited them to have supper with us once a week. However, sometimes we would go a month and only pass them in the street. In addition to taking a lot of missions, they were wrapped up in their own world together, happily in love and blind to everything else." He snorted in amusement. "Ah, newlyweds."

"So what happened?" Kankuro asked, feeling vaguely nauseated.

"One day, about two years later, things abruptly changed." A smile quirked the old man's lips. "I would come home on random days and find Aki visiting my wife and waiting for me. They sometimes invited us over for supper. Then Aki got pregnant, and suddenly we were woven back into the fabric of each other's lives. Now I have four grandchildren and two great-grandchildren."

Kankuro watched the old man carefully, noting the happy lilt to his voice, but he wasn't sure what to say. "What are you trying to tell me?"

Ebizo pinned him with a stare. "I'm suggesting that you consider the possibility that you are — for all intents and purposes — just as much Temari's father as her brother."

Although Baki had said something similar, Kankuro was still taken off-guard. "What?"

Ebizo snorted again. "Shiro told me about both you and your situation, hoping I could help you. So I know, for example, that you're the only one who can cook decently. You fix all the meals, sending your siblings off every morning with bento boxes. You take care of both Temari and Gaara on the rare occasions they're ill."

Kankuro ended up studying the cracks and chips in the painted, black floor.

"Also, there is the way you race to protect your siblings any time they're in danger." Ebizo's voice was kind. "You're a brother and a father, both."

Unsure what to say and embarrassed at discussing this with Ebizo, Kankuro kept his gaze pinned to the floor. His role in his household was not something he let other guys figure out; Shiro had been the only one to know.

"So from one father to another, let me give you some advice." Ebizo patted his arm. "If you do a good job, then one day your kids grow up and leave home." He sighed. "I've seen it before — cases where a family has eight or nine children, and all but one or two of them move away and only return for family reunions. Siblings who were inseparable best friends as children drift apart and get lost in their own lives to the point that they only see each other once every five years."

Bracing his feet against the bench, Kankuro pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He felt like a rolly-polly bug trying to protect its soft underbelly. "Yeah." He could barely breathe. Did it really have to be that way?

"That will not be Temari and you."

Kankuro peered at him, too afraid to hope. "Why not?"

"Because growing up and leaving home don't necessarily mean goodbye." Ebizo tried to pat Kankuro's arm again, but when that proved to be an awkward angle, he patted his back instead. "Apparently you've done your job well. You gave Temari enough love to build her confidence. Now she's pulling away from you like the teenager she ultimately is — off dating. But one day you'll walk through the front door and find her sitting at your kitchen table, waiting for you." The old man chuckled. "Then you'll be an uncle-grandfather, and there will be five hundred photographs of you holding and playing with Temari's children."

Since he no longer hated kids, Kankuro managed to find a small smile at the mental picture, but it evaporated quickly. "What makes you think it'll all work out? After all, the guy she's engaged to is from Konoha, not Suna."

Ebizo turned his gaze to the stage, looking as though he had been teleported to another time. "Because you are not your father, and neither is Temari. I trust that you two won't repeat his mistakes."

Squeezing his legs to his chest, Kankuro stared down at his knees and pondered the old man's words, knowing he was right about that: He couldn't let the past, and the wounds it held, color this situation. Still, there was one issue that was not being addressed, one concern that would not leave him alone. "But I'm not her father. I can't ever be."

"Not literally, of course."

"No, you don't get it." Kankuro clutched his legs even tighter, trying to hold in his emotions, but tears burnt his eyes. "When I first got close to Temari, we didn't have a parent-child relationship. Our relationship was the same on both sides: we were each other's everything. I was her father, sure, but I was also her brother, best friend, and soulmate. She was my mother, sister, best friend, and soulmate." His voice began to rise. "Don't you get it? Everyone, even Temari herself, seems to want to put me in the role of being her father now, but that means I'm no longer her brother, best friend, or soulmate. Three-fourths of my relationship with her has been torn out of me and given away, and the only role I have left is one I can't really comprehend." He wanted to punch something, to take out his pain on a physical object, but busting his knuckles open on the wall wouldn't help him any. "I'm not a father; I didn't really have one myself, so I don't understand what a father is. Plus I'm younger than she is, and even if our ages were switched, I'd need a good twenty years on her to have enough wisdom to fill the role. If that's the way she sees me now — if that's the only role she'll give me in her life — then I have no role at all. It's gone!"

Ebizo kept his voice calm and soothing. "Is that really true?"

Unwilling to back down, Kankuro stood his ground. "If what you say is true, then yes. I'm more like a sensei; Temari's graduated and moved on."

"Did you ever stop needing your father?" Ebizo asked gently.

Again, Ebizo was missing the point. "No, but the truth is that's not what I thought was happening here." Once more Kankuro was hit with the finality of it all: the difference between what Temari and he had discussed the future would be like and what it had really turned out to be. "I thought I was special to her. Special like the First Kazekage and his sister were special to each other or you and Chiyo-baa were special to each other. A bond where you share your life with someone. My father was just someone who I went to when I had a problem." On the good days, anyway. And there had been times like that. "He was someone who checked on me in the night when I was seriously injured." And Kankuro was well aware that over the years, he'd done that for his sister. "But Temari . . . I shared my dreams with her. _We_shared a dream with each other. She understood me when others didn't. I never imagined that my role in her life would change just because she began dating."

Ebizo began patting his back with long, comforting strokes. "It sounds like the two of you have a basic difference in personality. You're able to be soulmates with two people at once, apparently keeping your girlfriend in a separate category from your sister, but Temari is only soulmates with one person at a time. And it is natural to choose one's spouse as a soulmate."

Kankuro frowned, his lips quivering faintly. "So where does that leave me?" Again, he was struck by his lack of choice in this matter. His only option seemed to be to accept that Temari didn't see him as anything more than a replacement father and take the only role Temari had left for him. It felt hauntingly familiar. Just like Kankuro had never won the acceptance and approval from his father that he'd wanted, he was once more relegated to the confines of another's views, his own needs irrelevant.

Ebizo scooted closer and wrapped his arm around him. "Your pain is understandable. That's why I wanted to give you a fuller picture and a different context for what's happening. I'd hoped I could help you see a better future."

"Thanks," Kankuro whispered. Still, he was unable to lie. "But I can't see any future at all. Most people I know who live in separate villages from their parents or siblings only see them on birthdays or holidays."

Ebizo squeezed Kankuro's waist faintly. "It's all right. I'm convinced the two of you can find your way to a solution. You won't end up abandoned and alone."

Alone.

Overcome, Kankuro dropped his legs and turned, burying his face against the old man's shoulder. He wondered briefly if this was what it would have been like if his favorite grandfather had lived, and he hoped Ebizo wouldn't be put off. However, Ebizo merely wrapped his other arm around him and hugged him close, and unable to contain the pain anymore, Kankuro cried, the sobs muffled by the Ebizo's shoulder.

In Kankuro's mind, he'd already been abandoned. All he could do was move forward in the other areas of his life and try his best to bury this wound.

* * *

><p>In Gaara's office, Kankuro sat across the desk from his brother and reviewed the list of requests, plans, and guests for Temari's wedding. Given that their parents and grandparents were all dead, Temari would have to pay for her own wedding unless her brothers chipped in. Granted, they were both willing to help, but since the wedding would take place in Konoha, it made the arrangements difficult to make. They'd had to hire help.<p>

"At least she's chosen a modern wedding," Kankuro sighed, setting down the scroll containing the guest list. "I've never liked traditional ones, _jan._"

Picking up the scroll, Gaara glanced over it and frowned. "I can't let this many of our top shinboi leave at once, especially when I myself will be gone."

"She probably knows that." Kankuro leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. "Hey, just don't mention the dress around her. She can't find one she likes, and despite being a tomboy, she'd really obsessing about it. It's way scary."

Gaara stared at him silently for a moment. "Did she ask you to be the one to give her away?"

Unable to stop himself, Kankuro burst into harsh laughter. The irony was atrocious. "Yeah."

"Did you agree?" Gaara asked quietly.

"Well, yeah, of course." Kankuro would rather cut off his fingers than ruin his sister's wedding. There was no incarnation of himself or his performance in which he could be that gauche. He would respect his sister's choice and uphold her happiness even if it killed him. "This is supposed to be one of the best days of her life. I'm not going to let my issues get in the way of that."

Although his stoic expression didn't change, Gaara smacked down the scroll and stared at him. "Stop doing that."

"What?" Kankuro was surprised by this sudden display. "I'm the oldest man in the family now, and she asked me to do it. Why would I say no?"

"Not that." Gaara stood abruptly. "You're disrespecting yourself."

Although he wished he could believe that, given that it would mean he could let up on himself, Kankuro just couldn't. "Oh, yeah? How so?"

"I told you several weeks ago I'd wait to talk to you until you were ready, but I think I need to do so now. It is time for me to _speak_." Gaara walked over to the small, round window and stared out at his village. "You won't admit it. No matter how many times you've talked to me about this situation, you won't admit that your position has as much validity as Temari's. You'll get close, but then you always get confused and shy away from it again."

For a moment, Kankuro was completely confused. Everyone, including Baki, Ebizo, and previously Gaara himself, had basically told him that he had to accept what was happening and get over it. "But . . . . it's natural for people to grow up, get married, and move out. Most siblings don't stay close. Many parents and kids don't stay close. People sometimes move far away, and they get wrapped up in their own lives." _I've lost the most inevitable battle of all existence, other than death,_ he thought but didn't say.

Turning to face him, Gaara fixed him with a stare. "Just because it's 'normal' doesn't make it right."

Struck speechless, Kankuro simply stared back. _But I'm the one with the problem here, right? I was the one unwilling to let go and bow to fate, right?_

"Not all cultures do it the way we do," Gaara said. "The increasing trend we have to spread out and drift away is new. In other cultures, it just isn't that way. What makes us right and them wrong?"

"What makes us wrong and them right?" Kankuro countered, although he was mostly arguing for the sake of argument. Part of him wished, desperately wished, that Gaara was correct and that he wasn't simply the stubborn, overemotional deviant others had insisted he was.

"No, what makes Temari right and you wrong?" Gaara walked around his desk and stood by Kankuro's chair, gazing down at him with an unreadable expression. "If she is right, why are you not right also?"

Unable to reply, Kankuro met that gaze. _Never. Never has someone said that to me. For the first time ever, for one person other than me, it's not either/or._

"Kankuro . . ." Gaara's voice grew soft. "Niisan, I don't think you're wrong. What I hear you saying is that you want to invest yourself deeply in two or three people and build the kind of bond with them that will fuse you together for the entirety of your lives. Now that you're dating, I know one of those people will eventually be your wife, but it's clear that only having a spouse to share your life with isn't enough for you. Why is that wrong?"

Glancing away, Kankuro tried to hide the unwelcome tears that had sprung to his eyes. "Because no one wants it." _No one wants_ me._ They never stay. If they agree to bond with me this way in the first place, then they never stay. Why is it that no one wants to keep me?_

"I do," Gaara whispered.

Jerking his head back around, Kankuro stared up at his brother, the one who'd once told him that he didn't consider them siblings — the one he'd slowly built a relationship with, the one he could finally call "ototo," but also the one he'd never imagined would want such a bond with him.

"If it's valid for Temari to only desire or need one soulmate in her life," Gaara continued, "then it's equally valid for you to desire and need two of them. That's not something you should explain away or apologize for. Temari promised you she'd always be at your side the way she now is for Shikamaru, but ultimately, it was a promise she didn't keep. It's clear to me that you don't want to accept that. I know that no one can help who they fall in love with or who they consider the most important in their lives; love can take us by surprise. Temari didn't plan to replace you or hurt you, but the truth is she did. Despite your pain, you don't really want to convict her as guilty of that, but because you won't, you can't accept yourself."

Kankuro stood abruptly, walking over to the window that Gaara had abandoned and staring out of it sightlessly. A sneer formed on his lips. "I thought I was the one who simply didn't have 'boundaries' or was clinging to my sister in an 'unholy' or 'unnatural' way." The words were acidic enough to melt the glass.

"That's not the same thing." Gaara joined him at the window. "By watching you both get so upset, I've been forced to put a lot of thought into this. I can see where you don't have boundaries — you continue helping people even after you're out of energy. You don't take care of yourself properly. You'll sacrifice all your time and energy to another person without keeping back time for yourself." He paused. "You can't continue to do that. You've made yourself physically sick that way before."

Knowing he was guilty as charged, Kankuro didn't bother to argue it.

"But learning to say no sometimes is not the same as limiting the amount of love you feel for someone or how deeply you bond with them. It's simply the willingness to take time out for yourself or not overextend yourself." Gaara grabbed his shoulder and turned him to face him. "And most importantly to me, it's not something you do with me. If I ask you to do a mission when you're already overextended, you say no despite the fact I'm your brother and your Kazekage. If I need you, you're there for me, but if you need time to yourself, you stay in your room and work on your puppets. And that's fine with me. It doesn't hurt my feelings or offend me. I need a lot of time to myself, too."

Realizing that Gaara was correct, Kankuro watched his brother closely. "I'm not sure how I did that," he admitted. "You're the first person ever that I've done that with." There were times he'd failed missions because he'd stayed up all night assisting Temari with a problem. "Why are you different?"

"I'm not sure, except that I've always been different." Gaara glanced away. "However, you've always respected my boundaries as well, especially since I changed my life. If I don't want to talk about something, you don't press me. If I need to be alone, you don't bother me. And you never ask me to be someone I'm not."

Struck by irony, Kankuro realized that something entirely negative had created something entirely positive. In the beginning, he'd been so afraid of his brother that he'd erected barriers and boundaries to protect himself, but then with time he'd slowly lowered the barriers without destroying the boundaries. "Okay, so boundaries and bonds aren't the same thing. Now what?" Despite his offhand way of asking, he genuinely wanted the answer.

"Now you must accept that you're not a freak." Gaara met his gaze again. "You must say it, literally. Say that it's valid to want two soulmates. Say that it's valid to have a soulmate and a spouse at the same time. You're not wrong. You're not lacking boundaries — not in this way. You're not unholy or unnatural."

Stunned, Kankuro wondered how Gaara knew to say all of that, but as he considered all the times he'd spilled his guts to his brother, he realized he'd slowly revealed all the pieces to the story until it made a coherent picture. "My viewpoint is valid, too," he repeated. "I'm not weird."

Nodding, Gaara clasped his shoulder, then returned to his chair and sank into it. "I'm not sure you realize how this looks to me. From my point of view, Temari has pushed aside the one thing I want most in the world, and you are so hurt you're unwilling to offer this priceless gift to another person beyond your girlfriend, which essentially sets you up to deny your own being."

"I hadn't thought about that." Kankuro perched on the corner of Gaara's desk, feeling almost guilty. "I guess if I never offer that kind of bond to someone other than my girlfriend, I'll be forcing myself to be like Temari instead of like myself."

Gaara leaned back in his chair. "Precisely. Meanwhile, I'm right here." He paused, as though considering whether to finish his thought, then continued. "I'm both willing and able to share that kind of bond with you."

Blunt. Open. Honest. Since the war had ended and Gaara had made peace with their father, he had been different. Uncomfortable with how straightforward his brother was being, Kankuro glanced away again. To a certain extent, Gaara's offer was beside the point; Gaara couldn't replace Temari. No one could. Temari was a unique individual with whom Kankuro had shared a bond so deep and special that he could never put words to it. He wasn't sure even an epic poet could. But he had to admit that it was possible to build an equally deep and special bond with someone new. Gaara, by being his brother instead of his sister, would generate a different kind of bond by default, but it could still give Kankuro that same level of satisfaction and joy.

There was only one problem.

"I thought you wanted that kind of bond with Naruto," Kankuro said, pinning his brother with a stare.

A small, sad smile upturned the corners of Gaara's mouth. "Like Temari for you, Naruto is someone precious to me. He was the first person to understand me, the first person to reach out to me, and the first person to give me any hope for myself. But like Temari now, Naruto lives in Konoha. I will only see him probably once every six months. As long as I live, no matter how little we see each other or how different our lives are, Naruto will call me his friend. He'll always be happy to see me, always love me, and always rush to my side if I need his help. But he can't share my daily life with me, just like Temari can no longer share her daily life with you."

Horrified, Kankuro hopped off the desk and backed away. "I don't want to come in second place."

Gaara jerked to his feet, reaching out one hand to his brother. "No! That's not what I meant. You aren't. I can't be Temari to you, and you can't be Naruto to me. But you can be _you._ Can't I be me? Or . . ." He dropped his hand. "Or do you simply not want that kind of bond with me?" He took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. "I understand if you don't. Like I said earlier, we can't help who we love or who we consider most important in our lives. If you don't feel that way about me, then you don't. I was just saying that . . ." He paused, his sentence trailing off.

Even more horrified, Kankuro stepped forward and took his brother's hand, squeezing it. "That's not it. That's not it at all." Impulsively, he pressed a kiss to the back of Gaara's hand. "I just didn't think you had that 'slot' open, if you will." It was more than that, of course. As much as he loved his brother, Kankuro had never imagined that Gaara would want a deep bond with him. Their relationship had started so rocky and taken so long to turn around, it seemed impossible somehow that Gaara could desire a bond with him like the one he shared with Temari. It was blowing his mind to learn otherwise.

"Take your time," Gaara said quietly. "I'm not pressuring you. If you do this, then I want you to pursue it because you desire it, not because you're lonely, hurt, or even worse, feeling duty or obligation. I'm not going to be angry with you if you choose not to. I'll respect you more for caring enough about me to be honest." He smiled sadly. "Besides, you still need time to grieve. As I said before, for you this has been a lot like a death. In a sense, it even is a death."

_Can something good come from something bad? _Kankuro wondered. But wishing to take Gaara, his request, and his feelings seriously, he simply nodded. "I won't rush in, promise. You're right. I'm still grieving, and I was never one for rebounds."

That said, for long moments, he found he couldn't let go of Gaara's hand. Even in the midst of a pain that he thought no one else could understand, someone had reached out to him — someone who could understand his pain because he valued the same things. Someone who valued him for him.

Suddenly, the world didn't look quite so dark.

* * *

><p>Four months later, Kankuro found himself in Konoha, standing in front of the elaborately decorated civic center. Today was the day: Temari and Shikamaru's wedding. Half of Konoha and Suna had packed into the civic center's theater, its auditorium being the only place large enough to host the wedding.<p>

Temari was standing outside at the bottom of the steps, nervously patting down her white, satin wedding dress. To Kankuro, she looked stunningly beautiful, a blush making her cheeks glow. Lined up the stairs were Shino, Kiba, Lee, and Neji on one side, and on the other side stood Temari's friends, Maki, Aika, Ryoko, Emiko, and Yumi, who was the maid of honor.

"You look too perfect," Kankuro teased his sister gently. "Stop messing with your dress; you already don't look like you, _jan._" In a sense, it was true. With makeup on and her hair done up in a fancy twist, Temari looked closer to a model than a kunoichi.

The comment had the desired effect; Temari stopped worrying over her dress and punched him in the arm. "Jerk."

Kankuro laughed.

The doors opened, revealing the assistant wedding planner, Hinata, and music floated out into the warm spring air. Hinata motioned for the flower girl and ring bearer — young cousins of Shikamaru — to go inside, and the bridesmaids and groomsmen paired up, following. Yumi grinned at her best friend, then headed inside as well.

Kankuro turned to Temari, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn't expected to be nervous, but the idea of hundreds of people watching him escort his sister down the aisle proved to be unsettling. More than that, though, the time had come for him to symbolically finish releasing his sister to her new life. "Ready?"

"Yeah." For a long moment, Temari watched him with a sad gaze. "You okay?"

"Yep." He didn't want to be mushy, but he had to say what he really felt. "I'll always love you. You know that, right?"

Tears sprang to her eyes. "I'll always love you, too. You also know that, right? You'll always be my punk of an ototo."

Kankuro nodded. "Yeah, that's kinda the point, though. Today's the last day I'll be playing your dad, too. No more double-duty." He said it lightly, grinning to mask what would've otherwise been dead seriousness. "It's ototo, nee-san." Since it was the only role left he felt comfortable with retaining, he felt like he needed to set his boundaries, and she'd provided him the perfect opening.

A look of curiosity passed over Temari's face, but she didn't seem upset. "Sure thing. Ototo."

Smiling, Kankuro extended his elbow to her. "Let's start the show, then." He figured she was curious enough to ask him what he meant later, and when she did, he'd explain. For now, though, it would do.

Taking his arm, Temari returned his smile, and they climbed the steps together, Temari lifting up the skirt of her dress with her free hand. Once they entered the lobby, Hinata handed Temari her bouquet, and they paused at the door to the theater as the music changed. The entire congregation stood, hundreds of the Nara, Akimichi, and Yamanaka clan members on one side and a lesser number of Suna shinobi, including Ebizo and Baki, on the other. Kankuro's girlfriend hadn't accompanied him, though; being one of their stronger jonin, she'd been asked to remain behind and guard the village.

Gazing up the aisle, Kankuro saw Shikamaru waiting with his best man, Choji, as well as the now assembled bridesmaids and groomsmen. He glanced at his sister, seeing the beaming smile spread across her face, and he knew the only person in the entire room that existed for her was Shikamaru. _She really is a beautiful bride,_ he thought, suddenly feeling like the proudest brother in the world.

When he started up the aisle, however, he focused his attention on the officiators: Gaara and Naruto. Given that it was a civil wedding instead of a religious one, Shikamaru and Temari had asked their respective kages to share the honors. Although the wedding party was wearing tuxedos and satin dresses, the Hokage and Kazekage were wearing black, satin kimono, complete with matching black haori jackets and striped hakama pants. In contrast to his formal outfit, Naruto was grinning, clearly giddy over officiating his friend's wedding, while Gaara appeared sedate and proper. Still, when Kankuro met his brother's gaze, Gaara gave him a tiny smile. Kankuro knew Gaara was feeling as proud of their sister as he was, but he recognized that his ototo was also giving him encouragement. He returned the smile.

When they reached the bottom of the temporary stairs added to the theater stage, Kankuro released his sister, watching her climb the steps and take Shikamaru's hand, and then stepped over to the front row, taking his place by Baki and Ebizo. Once the music ended, the congregation sat.

Gaara spoke first, having divided up the lines with Naruto. "We are gathered here today to unite in marriage Nara Shikamaru and Suna no Temari . . ."

Kankuro sat, listening to the opening of the ceremony and knowing his role — his final part to play — would come soon. Once again, his heart pounded in his chest, only part of it nervousness. He could only feel grateful that he'd settled his feelings earlier, otherwise the process might have been too painful to bear. He really didn't want to cry. He hated crying in front of others.

"Who gives away this woman?" Gaara asked, looking his brother's way.

The time had come. Kankuro stood. "I, her brother, do."

And it was finished.

Kankuro sat again, watching the rest of the proceedings. His sister smiled through the entire process, her joy radiating from within her like a chakra burst. Shikamaru was no less obvious, his usual languid expression banished for the day. The way he gazed at Temari, it was as though a beloved goddess stood before him. Kankuro knew with an inexplicable, abiding certainty that their marriage would never turn sour. It would be blessed. He had no fear that his sister would be unhappy; any problems Shikamaru and she faced they would work out together.

However, after several minutes, Kankuro found his attention wandering to Gaara instead. His brother's offer to bond with him seemed somehow underscored instead of threatened by the sight of Naruto standing by him. Gaara needed deep bonds with others; as Kankuro understood it now, Gaara had always wanted to bond with others. He could still remember the small child standing in the street, clutching a teddy bear by the arm and crying because everyone hated him. Kankuro had been terrified of that child, who often accidentally hurt or killed others with the overabundance of Shukaku's power.

At the same time, Kankuro remembered the days before he'd been allowed to meet his younger brother. He remembered seeing a picture of his mother holding the newborn Gaara shortly before she died. Gaara had been tiny, born so premature that he'd had to live in an incubator for the first three weeks of his life. Had Shukaku's power not given him extra strength, Gaara might have died. Kankuro, who'd been six years old when he'd seen the photograph, had experienced an overwhelming urge to protect this younger brother he'd never met.

That urge had never really left; it had simply been buried under fear. Once Gaara had turned his life around and begun reaching out to him, Kankuro had once again been consumed with the need to assist and protect his ototo, so much so that he'd risked his life to try saving Gaara from Deidara. It had meant a great deal to Kankuro that he'd finally been able to get closer to his brother, and the thought that Gaara actually desired a soul-deep bond with him made him ecstatic.

Kankuro had feared he'd end up alone again, but that was not the way it was turning out.

After the wedding, everyone moved to the banquet hall, where a herd of tables had been set up and food awaited. Temari and Shikamaru were at the table of honor by themselves, so Kankuro joined Gaara at the table where the bridesmaids and groomsmen sat. Gaara watched his brother carefully, clearly concerned, but Kankuro had no difficulty watching Shikamaru and Temari cut the cake and smear up each other's faces. The shift in dynamics that had begun nine months earlier, before the war, had finished its term. Temari was a new person who not only had come of age but also was now a married woman; from this day forward, a new phase of her life would begin. However, the same was true for Kankuro. He wasn't convinced that he'd marry the girl he was dating — having both been badly burnt in previous relationships, they were taking their time getting to know each other — and he had no overwhelming drive to marry young in the first place. But the spot that Temari had once filled was now open. By necessity, Kankuro's focus for his time and energy had changed; the change in Temari and her life was mirrored in him and his life.

When the dancing began, Kankuro watched Temari and Shikamaru during their song, marveling at the absolute adoration in their gazes as they danced. Love really was an amazing thing. However, once the guests began dancing as well, Kankuro stood to leave. His girlfriend wasn't there for him to dance with, and despite his generally extroverted nature, the huge crowd and its noise was giving him a headache. Kankuro never had normal headaches. If he let the pain take root, he would be flat on his back with a migraine for at least two days, which would not only suck but also delay his return to Suna. Better to go somewhere quieter.

Gaara stood when he did. "Are you leaving?"

"Yeah. Working on a migraine here." Kankuro looked around at the twirling dancers, picking out Temari and Shikamaru among them. "I'm just gonna head back to Suna. I need the quiet, and I think I'd feel better if I kept moving rather than lying down." Until he became light sensitive, Kankuro managed his migraines better if he stayed on his feet.

Gaara watched him for a moment. "I apologize for asking your girlfriend to stay behind. If I hadn't, you could've danced."

Struck by the irony, Kankuro raised an eyebrow at him. "No, I get it, _jan_. Somebody had to stay behind and protect Suna. Besides, you didn't bring a date, either, so you're not getting to dance."

Gaara shrugged faintly. When they were younger, Kankuro had wondered if his brother's total lack of interest in girls meant he was gay, but not being much of an either/or thinker, he'd come to the conclusion that his brother was simply nonsexual instead. For whatever reason, romance didn't appeal to Gaara.

Either/or.

"Wait!" Kankuro's sudden idea struck him so hard that he raised his voice. With all the music and talking, no one noticed. "Here's an idea. Why do Temari and Shikamaru only have to live in either Konoha or Suna? If they really are concerned about having to abandon one village or the other, why don't they spend half the year in Konoha and half in Suna?"

Gaara's eyes widened faintly. "I hadn't considered that possibility, but now that you mention it, I'm unsure why I didn't think of it myself." He glanced at their sister. "It seems logical, but I don't know if Temari and Shikamaru will be comfortable with it. It'll be quite a hassle to maintain two households."

"I suppose." Kankuro supposed it was worth pointing out the obvious. "But a lot of elderly people from various villages move south to Suna for the winter because we've got warmer, drier weather. It's not unheard of."

Gaara nodded. "It _would _ensure that both villages benefit from their loyalty and their talents. I'm sure Naruto will think it's a great idea and will help make the arrangements politically. I'll mention it to Temari and Shikamaru after their honeymoon and see what they think."

"Cool." Unconcerned with the outcome — whatever would be would be — Kankuro headed toward his sister.

Gaara grasped his elbow. "You can dance with me if you like."

Pausing, Kankuro glanced back at his brother, surprised. "What?" For a moment, all he could think about was Baki accusing him of committing incest with Temari and his ex-classmates calling him gay and threatening to beat him up.

Looking patently unconcerned, Gaara shrugged again. "We're brothers. Why not?"

Kankuro scanned the room. Unsurprisingly, Naruto was dancing with Hinata, but Sakura and Ino were dancing together as well. Temari's friends Yumi and Ryoko were also dancing together. "Girls can get away with that, but people might look at us funny."

Gaara's expression remained utterly deadpan.

"Right." Tired of being trapped in other people's views of what had to be normal, Kankuro turned back and pulled Gaara into his arms, grinning at him. "Okay, let's dance."

Since Temari and Kankuro had taught Gaara to dance for the sake of state functions, Gaara already knew what to do despite his general disinterest in dating and therefore lack of dancing experiences. Kankuro capitalized on that knowledge, leading them through a rather ostentatious version of a waltz, complete with twirls. The surrounding dancers exclaimed and laughed, and when the song was finished, they all clapped and whistled. Gaara took the attention in stride, but much amused, Kankuro gave them a deep, theatrical bow before heading off to say goodbye to his sister and wish her a happy honeymoon.

Then, satisfied that he'd done his job well, Kankuro slipped out, leaving the merrymakers to their party and heading back to his room to change clothes. After all, he'd completed the final act of his previous role: He'd given Temari away at her wedding, given her his blessing, and left her in the very capable hands of her husband. It was time to go home. Perhaps Ebizo was right, at least partially, and after a few months Temari, along with Shikamaru, would visit her ototo. In between those times, though, Kankuro had a new life of his own to live.

To his surprise, Kankuro found Gaara waiting at Konoha's main entrance. He smiled as he approached his ototo. "Hey, man, didn't expect to see you here. Why aren't you still at the party?"

"After a few minutes, I followed you out," Gaara said simply.

Remembering that the history books said that men like him had held hands with their brothers and thought nothing of it, Kankuro walked up and grabbed Gaara's hand. "You ready, then?"

Far from jerking away, Gaara squeezed his hand. "Whenever you are."

For a moment, Kankuro wondered if they were discussing going home or being closer brothers. Either way, it worked. "Let's go."

Still holding his brother's hand, Gaara burst into a sprint, and Kankuro kept pace with him, the smile still hovering on his lips.

In the place where they'd been standing, a leaf was carried away by a gentle breeze, leaving only the sunlight to mark the path they'd taken.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Thank you to JKL, Mystical Sand, Karasu95, and InoShikaChou for the reviews! I really appreciate you all!  
><em>

_A gold star to anyone who caught all the references to my old stories. As I have it counted, I managed to allude to "The Blood of Brothers," "The Greatest of These Is Love," "The Day Gaara Died," "If It Matters," "Smile and Take a Bow," "Dances with Shinobi," and in a sense, "Reaching out to You" and "Star Gazing Festival." In addition, when I later wrote "Divergent Paths," I kept Shiro as the name of Kankuro's best friend. So, either 8 or 9 stories, depending on whether I'm counting DP or not._


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